


Overdrive

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: (bobby is like barely here but hes here and theyre obv in a relationship so), Autism, M/M, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 04:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10586874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: A short exploration into how autism affects Sammy's life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be longer but i wanted to get it done and its 3 am :P i'll do more with this later bc i love the idea of sammy being autistic. this is partially autobiographical: i and most of my friends sit on the autism spectrum. sammy's symptoms are sort of an amalgamation of my own and my friends'. this isn't quite how my sensory overloads go, personally, but it IS how a lot of people experience them. poor sammy. :C

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

The incessant clicking was starting to drive the crew of The Sammy Maudlin Show up a wall. Sammy did like to click pens, especially if he was trying to focus on something. When he wasn't busy fiddling with a satiny part of his shirt or jacket. Or drumming a mindless rhythm on his knees. Or fucking clapping. God, the clapping.

The only person who really seemed to get it was his producer. Jonathan O'Malley had been with the Maudlin Show virtually since its inception, and he was the only person outside of William B. and Bobby who seemed to fully understand Sammy. "You're clickin' that pen an awful lot, boyo. Somethin' the matter?" he asked, in his thick Irish brogue. Sammy paused and the sigh of relief that swept over the crew was almost palpable. He shrugged noncomittally. "S'just that y'don't normally do that unless you're bothered."

"Focusing," Sammy explained, then went back to clicking the pen, eliciting a groan of frustration from some of his less-tactful staff. He didn't seem to notice, though. If anything, he clicked the pen faster. O'Malley nodded a little and gently patted Sammy's hand.

"Thing is you're kinda disturbin' the rest of the crew, lad."

"Oh. Sorry..." Sammy put the pen down and instead opted to play with his engagement ring. It wasn't as convenient or satisfying to spin as the ring he'd received as a gift from William B. one birthday several years ago. Made sense, he guessed. Engagement rings aren't designed to spin and be fiddled with like that.

Sammy wandered away after apparently hearing something that his razor-sharp ears could pick up. "Why the hell does he do that? Is he trying to be a pain in the ass?" one of the younger and ruder interns asked, snatching the pen Sammy had been playing with and using it to scribble down some notes. O'Malley shook his head.

"Nah, he isn't doin' it on purpose. My lil' girl's the same way. He jus' likes havin' somethin' to do with his hands. An' it sounds nice to him." He placed his headphones back on his ears and turned back to the screen in front of him. "He ain't tryin' to bother you, lad, he's just... wired a lil' bit different, is all."

***  
Bobby barely managed to avoid spilling his coffee when he was gripped from behind and pulled close by Sammy. "Jesus. Um, hi, sweetheart, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be editing a show right now?"

"Eh, they know I wander off sometimes. I heard you comin' and wanted to come say hi."

"Mmm. That's sweet, but I don't have time to talk, babe." Bobby wiggled his way out of the hug. "They're gonna have my head if I turn up 20 minutes late with coffee again." He stood on his toes and gave Sammy a quick, affectionate kiss. "I'll see you at home, alright? Love you."

As Bobby left, Sammy found himself pouting a little. Damn. He didn't really feel like going back to the edit bay. When they'd been at it a while it got loud and crowded and everything smelled like cigarette smoke (and occasionally marijuana). Sure, he'd light up himself every now and then, but too much of it made him physically ill.

He found himself back in his dressing room. It was quiet and dark and no one would bother him. Good. Sammy lay back on the couch therein, gangly limbs everywhere spider-like. This couch was way too tiny, but he didn't dare ask Caballero for a new one. Caballero yelled a lot and his voice was really scratchy and awful to listen to. He avoided him as much as possible.

He closed his eyes and tried to get in a brief cat nap. He had nothing better to do, after all, and he hadn't slept particularly well the night before anyway. Tossing and turning, he groaned quietly, failing to find a comfortable position.

Maybe he just needed a little help. He stood and dug through a drawer in the vanity. Retrieving a swatch of satiny fabric spritzed with one of the less-obtrusive of Bobby's colognes, he practically felt the tension melt away as he ran his fingers over the soft material. This was better. Even if he couldn't sleep, he could at least have some quiet and relax.

Sammy let out a quiet, content sigh as he rubbed the soft fabric under his nose, breathing in the smell of overpriced but not overbearing cologne. Without thinking, he curled up on the couch, his eyes shut, and his thumb drifted to his mouth. Just a little nap. Wouldn't hurt anyone.

He woke some time later to William B.'s voice. "Hey. You alright in here?" Sammy groaned as the lights were switched on, covering his eyes. William B. paused, then asked, "You suck your thumb?"

"Sometimes," Sammy mumbled, sitting up and stretching. William B. was quiet for a second, and Sammy could just feel him staring at him confusedly. "What? It's... it's soothing." He yawned and scratched his head lazily. "What do you want...?"

"Just wondering where you were. Hadn't seen you around for a couple hours." William B. dimmed the lights slightly when he noticed Sammy shielding his eyes. "Didn't know you were sleeping."

"Couple hours?" Sammy yawned. "What time is it?"

"5:30. Half hour before we're live." Shit. Sammy groaned a little and stood to glance in the mirror. His hair was a mess and he looked like warmed-over death... or at least someone that just woke up that wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. William B. smiled a little. "You don't look that bad," he reassured him.

"You're lyin', but thanks." Sammy ran his fingers through his curly hair. Presentable was about the best he could go for. "Who's on tonight again?"

"Ummm... I actually don't remember. I'm sure Bobby'll show up."

"No kiddin'. He always shows up." Sammy grabbed a comb off of the vanity and ran it through his hair. "I just hope it ain't anyone too... loud."

"Bobby's loud."

"It's different with him." Sammy put the comb down and tucked the satin square of fabric into his breast pocket. If nothing else he could have it to fiddle with and no one would be the wiser. It was just a handkerchief as far as anyone who didn't know was concerned.

***

Everything was off. Wrong. A stranger was on his show touching him entirely too much (her name was Georgia, it turned out, but fuck if he could remember her last name) and the lights were too bright and too hot and every single noise sent a white-hot prod into his eardrums. Sammy sighed quietly and began fiddling with his satin pocket square. It didn't help.

It was so hot. Why were the lights so hot and so bright? Did they turn them up? Why was everything so loud and why did Georgia touching him burn like fire? He felt like he had a fever that didn't even have the decency to turn to a chill once in a while. Sammy shut his eyes tight and covered his ears as Georgia, with her horrible braying-donkey-esque voice, cracked a joke that made the crowd howl with laughter.

He thought maybe William B. asked him something, but he didn't hear it. It sounded like loud TV static. He had to get out of there. Sammy stood and darted from the set, practically slamming the door to his dressing room and dimming the lights. Quiet and darkness. That's what he needed.

This was why he kept a bag of stuff behind the couch. Just in case. Digging it out, he pawed through it desperately for a moment. Bangles, Slinkies, a plastic light-up ball. He selected a teething ring, made for puppies but evidently human-safe, made of hard rubber and immediately set to gnawing on it. Holding it between his teeth, he flapped his arms at the same time, sitting in the quiet and dark. This was a lot better.

Sammy nearly panicked as the door to his dressing room opened. He relaxed again at the sound of footfalls too light to be William B.'s and too heavy to be, say, Lola Heatherton. Bobby. He looked up at him and whimpered quietly.

"Hey. William B. said you were acting weird. You alright, sweetheart?"

Sammy shook his head and carried on chewing the teething toy. Bobby shut the door quietly and sat beside his fiance. "You okay if I touch you?" he asked quietly, aching to comfort his partner but managing to keep his hands to himself. Sammy nodded, and Bobby wrapped Sammy in his arms protectively. "What happened?"

Sammy made a quiet noise, chewing on the toy and fiddling with one of Bobby's necklaces. "... Can you talk?" Bobby whispered, his voice low. Another shake of the head. This happened when Sammy got like this sometimes. He'd lose the ability to talk, and he'd kind of shut down. It was really bad when he wouldn't let Bobby touch him or even talk to him. And he'd scream. God, he'd scream and cry and it broke Bobby's heart.

Bobby dug around in the bag for a second, coming up with a minky blanket with soft satiny trim. Sammy loved this thing but he was embarrassed to be seen with it. Understandable, he guessed, not many adults he knew had a security blanket. "Sweetheart. Sweetheart, here," he whispered, gently placing the blanket within reach. Sammy paused his fiddling with Bobby's necklace momentarily, pulled the blanket close, rubbed the satin binding against his cheek, and went back to playing with Bobby's necklace with the soft fabric brushing against his skin.

They stayed like that for a few minutes. "You okay?"

"Mmmnhhh." Sammy gently let go of Bobby's necklace. "I... I think."

"Still not 100%, huh?"

"Mm-mm." Sammy nuzzled the blanket. It was soft and smelled nice and that was way better than what he'd gone through earlier. "Home."

"You wanna go home?"

"Mmhm."

"What about the show?"

Sammy shrugged. He knew he got too good of ratings and had been part of the staff for too long. Caballero wouldn't say a word. "Home," he repeated. Bobby nodded.

"Alright. Alright, sweetheart, we'll go home."

***

Laying in bed with the blanket, rubbing the satin edges, Sammy sighed quietly. This was MUCH better. He still wasn't very talkative, but he was safe, and he couldn't ask for much more. Bobby, propped up beside him with a book, glanced at his fiance. "Still okay, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Sammy smiled and snuggled close to Bobby. "Thanks."

"Thanks?" Bobby paused to think. "For getting you out of there?"

"Mhm."

"You're welcome." Bobby wrapped an arm around Sammy's shoulders. "I hate seein' you like that. I can't imagine it feels very good for you either." Sammy giggled softly. A laugh! Laughter was always a good sign. "You tired?"

"Mm-mm." Sammy continued petting the blanket.

"Yeah, me either." Bobby shut his book after dog-earing the page. "How about some food, then? I didn't get lunch today so I'm starving." He moved to leave bed, only to feel a hand grip the back of his jacket. "Babe?"

"Stay."

"Oh. Don't want me to leave yet, huh?"

"No."

"Alright." Bobby smiled a little and sat back down. He let himself get comfortable as Sammy tangled himself around him.

His stomach growled, but he tried to ignore it. He had a feeling he'd be here a while.


End file.
